


Prospero

by dramaticinsanity



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode Divergent, Kissing (Obviously), M/M, Minor Swearing, Mistletoe, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaguely set in 4x9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaticinsanity/pseuds/dramaticinsanity
Summary: Harry’s patience just ran out. He'll take advantage of a shared tradition, if Cisco's stubbornness doesn't succeed in thwarting him.





	Prospero

**Author's Note:**

> Cliche. Yes. Do I care? No. Has this been done? No clue, here it is anyway. If I don’t post this, I’ll never be free.

 

 

Harry stares critically at the tree, hands on his hips. If Cisco’s longing looks would translate to making a move, his life would be easier. He can feel the heat of his gaze on his neck. It prickles. 

He reaches out slowly to adjust a piece of tinsel, again. Harry knows it’s obsessive, but it’s worth the reactions it pulls. This time it’s a soft groan, one that causes his heart to tremble like a frightened little animal.

Harry can admit, at least internally, he’s being a little selfish. Cisco doesn't mind. He's secretly greedy for Harry's attention. After he failed to make it work with Cynthia, he takes what he can get. Negative or positive, it doesn’t matter. On his end, Harry makes certain Cisco is near constantly aware of his presence. At least it distracts Cisco from moping.

Cisco is growing tired of his repeated ministrations, which to his eye are not affecting anything. Except to mess it up. He takes a deep breath to keep himself from going off on Harry for something silly. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t kill Harry to chill.

“Don’t. Touch it,” Cisco warns, stepping up close behind him.

He tugs at Harry’s sleeve and has his hand slapped away. He grabs the green fluffy ball at the end of Harry’s hat. It’s easy to access from the way it sits. He worries it in his hand just to be annoying. Without looking, Harry snatches his hat off and slaps it on the top of Cisco’s head.

“Hey, my hair!” His hand twitches up and touches the green and red fuzz.

He’s not a fan of hats, although he has considered donning a pair of antlers. But he doesn’t remove it. Instead, he adjusts the thing to fit better. The bottom half of his hair, that’s the part he cares about most, anyway. His hair is at peak fluffiness, and one of the benefits is Harry’s constant complaints. Harry is so bizarrely preoccupied with hating on his hairstyle.

Harry rubs his fingers together thoughtfully, but he drops his arm. Cisco sighs, louder than necessary, with relief. His spine straightens, and he does not deign to turn around or respond. He glowers at the decoration as though it personally offended him or broke his daughter’s heart.

“Seriously will you stop obsessing? What is your hang up?”

“It’s imperfect,” Harry grouches. Behind him, Cisco grabs his shoulder to spin him around.  Purposely, he rolls his eyes, enabling Harry to see how done he is with these antics.

It might be the lighting or the upcoming holiday, but Harry’s eyes seem brighter despite being narrowed in consideration.

“Sometimes, it doesn’t have to be perfect! That’s what makes something special you know? But I’m telling you my ratio--”

Harry makes a noise in his throat. Cisco shuts his mouth and just looks at him angrily.

Harry’s train of thought crashes into the wall.

Cisco is alluring, to an unreasonable degree, when he is argumentative. His hair is too wavy, lips pursed, and green is definitely his color. And Harry can’t deal with this particular fixation right now. Unlike the damn tinsel, Cisco is utterly perfect, and he’ll tear apart anyone who states otherwise. He scrutinizes Cisco’s face now. He licks his thumb, reaches out, and rubs off a bit of glitter from his cheek. His fingertips linger, pressed beneath the curve of his jaw. Cisco blinks at him, startled, and his eyebrow twitches.

He stalks off before Cisco can recover. But Cisco is not done.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

They reach the threshold, and Harry faces him. The only evidence of his frustration is a line between his eyebrows. He opens his mouth as Cisco crosses his arms and mentally prepares retaliation.

They hear giggles. Harry’s mouth closes, and he shakes his head at Iris, Barry, and Caitlin. The trio are separated, working on their own projects. But all eyes are on Cisco and Harry, for reasons the pair cannot discern. Iris hides her face, but Barry is bouncing on the balls of his feet. Caitlin has her hands folded under her chin. Her expression is attempting and failing to be innocent. Cisco looks at Harry for help, and he shrugs in response.

“Want to clue me in on the joke?” Cisco asks petulantly, crossing his arms.

Iris covers her mouth and wordlessly points. Harry and Cisco look up simultaneously to take in the mistletoe.

Disturbed, Cisco claps his hands together. “Seriously?!”

Harry flicks it with his fingers, in a manner resembling a cat. His face is impassive. Cisco briefly closes his eyes, inhales, then groans in disappointment when it hasn’t disappeared. Harry is frowning at him now. Is he being blamed for it?

Harry isn’t blinking either. The silence is heavy. Hope trickles into Harry when Cisco’s eyes flicker down to his lips, then look pointedly over his shoulder. Harry leans toward him. It’s not subtle, and Cisco presses his hand to Harry’s shoulder to keep him from advancing. He takes a step back. Harry’s hope collapses in on itself.

“I am aware your Earth has the same custom as mine. We’re supposed to kiss.” His voice is far too light.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cisco grunts. He hardly needs it spelled out.

He ignores the suspicion that wriggles in the back of his mind. He’s stuck in this moment of Harry being inches away, and a perfect excuse for kissing him right above him. Taking that chance seems like the most intimidating feat ever, and he’s faced some awful, evil villains. After all, a kiss under the mistletoe doesn’t necessarily mean anything, nevermind what movies would lead him to believe.

He doesn’t need this right now. Cisco knows he’s making a slight scene. He should just get it over with, a quick meeting of mouths. Something inside stops him. Is that all he wants from the chance to kiss Harry? A quick, forgettable, peck on the lips?

Cisco could walk away and pretend they didn’t stand here, acting like they don’t have free will in the matter. He can’t force his feet to move. Harry hasn’t blinked in a while. Did he blink at all?

Harry has the prettiest eyes in all the multiverse. He doesn’t have a clue that Harry is thinking the same about him. His eyes are burning because he doesn’t want to look away. Eventually, his eyelids flutter, and he goes for a final push.

“On this Earth, is it foretold, that if you kiss the person you have feelings for under the mistletoe within the month, prior to Christmas, they’ll fall in love with you?”

Cisco’s eyebrows shoot up, and a sharp exhale follows, almost a laugh.

Cisco experiences a sensation like only half of him vibed to another Earth. What Harry said, it is certainly an Earth-2 thing. Regardless, his voice is like hot cocoa in front of a fire, in the middle of a snowstorm. His stomach is heated, his heart fluttering, and the world shrinks to the movement of Harry’s lips around the vowels. He is still dumbly clutching his shoulder.

Certainly he isn’t suggesting what Cisco hopes he is suggesting? He stifles the foolish hope. He will not allow it to breed here. It must die before it causes him pain. Harry is curious about differences in their traditions, end of story.

Harry waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him back to reality. They must be a sight, but their observers are dead silent. Cisco can feel them waiting for something to happen.

“What? No. _What?_ ”

“Just an old -- it’s a thing.”

“That is -- oh my god, tell me no one actually believes that?” Cisco remarks dryly, “It’s incredibly sappy, I can’t believe I heard that from your mouth right now.”

Cisco does not exactly have complaints about soppy romance, but he is surprised to hear it imparted from Harry, of all people. He was married before sure, but he can’t imagine the man has a drop of romance in his entire body.

He’s calling it now, Harry is a closet romantic. And a hopeless one at that. He tries not to smile, picturing him writing poems or leaving trails of flower petals.

Cisco blinks and glances down. He regrets mentioning Harry’s mouth, especially considering the dilemma. He averts his eyes before he can be spotted staring at Harry’s lips for probably the fifth time today. He thinks he may have failed when Harry’s attention suddenly zooms in on him alone.

Harry steps forward, and Cisco jerks backward. His hand falls to Harry’s chest. He quickly retracts the appendage. He is painfully aware they still have an audience. An audience so quiet, as if they’re watching a play. At least his inner turmoil has entertainment value for his friends.

“What are you--”

“What’s a friendly kiss between friends,” Harry states like it’s a done deal.

Harry’s intentions are on another level. They’re not even in the same universe as friendly. He doesn’t exactly expect Cisco to buy it. He’s trying to throw him off. Maybe he can wiggle his way past his defenses.

Cisco is utterly unconvinced, especially by his tone becoming light again. It’s never a good thing. It’s a “I’m kind of manipulating you and hoping you’re dumb enough to fall for it” thing. Cisco holds tight to his dignity and his intelligence.

“Uh, is that an Earth-2 thing because here we don’t go around kissing our _friends_ \--”

“Oh, who has hang ups now? What’s one little kiss, Ramon?”

“You. I mean I. You don’t even like me!”

Harry notices that Cisco did not say a thing about not liking Harry, or the idea of kissing him. He smiles. Soon, Cisco will be right where he wants him. His resistance is a little nerve wracking though, and he is near to quivering with anticipation.

“What gives you that impression?”

Cisco gives him a flat look. “You won’t even use my first name.”

Harry manages to look sheepish and shrugs a little.

“A compromise then, how about a hug? For the sake of the spirit of Christmas?” Cisco continues, opening his arms wide.

Harry is becoming increasingly agitated. Cisco obviously wants to kiss him. Harry doesn’t understand why he has to be so difficult. He wishes he didn’t love every minute.

“It’s also said if you don’t kiss, your Christmas will be dreadful for the next seven years,” Harry says with a smirk. “Cisco.”

Not changing his stance, Cisco responds, “Since when are you superstitious? One might think you’re just looking for an excuse to kiss me!”

Harry tilts his head to the side but doesn’t say anything to that. Cisco wiggles his fingers. Harry pouts and glances around the room, as though grasping for something to say. Probably, he is thinking of how to convince Cisco to kiss him.

But _why_? It’s madness.

Harry is thinking that Cisco might not be able to resist anymore. Once he knows the feeling of Harry’s lips on his, he’ll be freed of his inhibition.

Nearby, one of their observers yells across the room, “Told you. You owe me twenty dollars.”

“Just _wait._ ”

Cisco is quite unimpressed. His friends were already betting on whether they would kiss or not. He wonders if this was somehow a setup. It is possible they were planning to lead Harry and Cisco into a trap, but of course they did it to themselves.

Harry finally sighs and leans toward him, seizing his hips. Instead of a warm embrace, his lips are engulfed warmly by another pair. His eyes widen, and he makes a noise of protest. But they are soft, so warm. His eyes fall closed, and he hesitantly reciprocates. He’s not about to stand there uselessly, defeated by Harry’s boldness.

Cisco slowly lowers his arms. He’s too distracted to know what to do with them.

The world drifts away. There’s the distant sound of someone clapping and someone else whistling suggestively. It’s unimportant.

Either Harry’s gotten carried away, or friendship is far from his mind. He moans softly and runs his tongue along Cisco’s upper lip. It’s unexpected and pleasant, and Cisco cannot stifle his gasp. Then his mouth is full of tongue, meeting his, and a tingle in his spine causes him to shiver. He shifts to grasp Harry’s biceps, firm and defined under his palms.

One hand of Harry’s sneaks to small of his back. There’s barely any space left between their bodies.

Harry has difficulty focusing on every point of contact at once. The sensations threaten to tow him under. He can’t fathom bouncing back after this, if Cisco doesn’t feel the same. He wouldn’t be able to touch him platonically and not recall the delight of his lips, or the press of fingers into the muscles of his arms. But Cisco, he’s returning the kiss. He would have stopped him. Would he not have?

Cisco is too distracted to examine why he isn’t stopping this.

All that matters is Harry’s consuming mouth on his, the smoky scent of his cologne, and the other hand that’s found its way into Cisco’s hair. Their tongues slide together, flicking and frolicking in the heat of Cisco’s mouth. Something below twitches in approval. Harry barely refrains from rolling his hips to encourage Cisco’s almost-erection to swell.

The hand tips his head back, and he braces himself for those lips moving to his ne -- Wait did he just _pinch_ his ass cheek?! It makes Cisco’s face heat faster than a microwave.

Abruptly, Harry pulls away. “There Cisco, a simple kiss. Was that so hard?”

Something would be hard, given the chance. Luckily it didn’t go far enough to cause Cisco that kind of embarrassment. Cisco checks that his mouth has closed, as to not resemble a fish. He notes that Harry has never been so flushed before, or at least not in front of him. He’s relieved to not currently be alone in the blushing club.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it’s done,” Harry addresses the room curtly.

He turns and walks away, fingers slipping gently out of Cisco’s hair. It leaves Cisco cold, his ears buzzing. The sensation of Harry’s deft hands and gentle lips is imprinted on his brain. He wants badly to feel them on his skin. Though feeling blindsided, Cisco musters up a glare at his retreating form.

“I told _you_ ,” Caitlin says, smirking.

“I shouldn’t have doubted,” Iris replies, “Harry doesn’t back down easily.”

Iris walks briskly over to Caitlin, handing over the money. She shoots Cisco a brief glare, like it’s his fault Harry does whatever the hell he wants.

He will certainly have a few words for them later. He has to figure out what to say about what kind of friends set up mistletoe and make little bets regarding it. Barry avoids his eyes and picks lint off his shirt.

When Harry reaches their usual work space, he collapses against the door. He removes his glasses and takes a shuddering breath. He recalls the way Cisco’s lips trembled on his, slow to respond but warm and sweet. He touches his lips, the post-kiss tingle determined to stay.

Harry paces the room. He runs his fingers through his hair at least a dozen times. He is uncertain where to go from here. He spectacularly failed to think further ahead than kissing Cisco. All he knows is that he really wants to do it again.

In the main arena, Cisco has spaced out for long after Harry disappeared from view. He rubs his lips together. He can just barely taste a hint of _something_ distinctly Harry. He doesn’t realize how he stands there, trying to identify the flavor. Someone clears their throat, and he blinks back to reality. The current space and time, where everyone just watched Harry attempt to eat his face off.

“Did you see that!” Cisco exclaims, electing to ignore the exchange between Caitlin and Iris for now.

“Unfortunately,” Barry grouses. “But at least he didn’t grope you--”

“Any _further_ ,” Iris adds. Caitlin nods. Yeah, to be fair, it was a near thing.

“--in front of us.”

“Friendly kisses between friends _my ass_ ,” Cisco continues grumpily, despite feeling as though he could do ten thousand cartwheels through the labs. “There was tongue, actual _tongue_. That’s not friendly!”

Cisco rolls his shoulders and leans on a table. He doesn’t know why he is complaining. Perhaps it is the fact he wanted to do more than merely make out with Harry. Especially when it was initiated by mistletoe, rather than a clear mutual romantic understanding. He groans and grinds his fingers against the place between his eyebrows.

“I need to go. Uh, tinker with something. Has to be something around here that needs improvement.” He tugs the hat off and wrings it in his hands.

Barry nods. “I think Iris and I will go home?”

He looks at her questioningly. She hops over to his side, and they’re gone in a flash. Caitlin stares after them chewing her lip. Her eyes are drooping slightly, but she might be thinking about keeping Cisco company.

A part of him wants to be alone with Harry, though he’s also afraid of what that might mean. Caitlin makes her decision, giving him a curt nod. “It’s been a long day. Sorry Cisco.”

“Get some rest, ‘kay?”

It’s empty. The tree does seem to brighten the room. He notices part of the tinsel is uneven, based on his calculations. Cisco scoffs and corrects the mistake. Harry had fiddled with it earlier, reaching over Cisco and brushing his fingers to accomplish it.

_Oh._ It hits him that Harry was being fastidious about Cisco’s decorating choices for one big reason. The reason was to spend more time with him, in addition to getting up in his business. Harry does enjoy pissing him off, as a bonus.

He could just ask, but maybe that isn’t how Harry operates. Cisco heads for his workshop, mind whirring as he goes through his recent projects. Working on something or other might help him process Harry’s various complicated idiosyncrasies.

Harry did his best to listen. But he couldn’t quite hear the voices in the distance. Cisco’s voice got noticeably high a couple of times. The conversation probably involved him, considered what just occurred. He watches them through security, not noting anything of interest.

Except when they leave. The whole place is left to him and Cisco. He flies out of his chair when he hears footsteps. He rushes to the entrance to the room, entire body tensed and ready.

Cisco makes it through the door, when someone pounces on him. He nearly screams, but it’s cut off by a hand on his mouth.

“No audience or mistletoe instigator here. How do you feel about another round, this time with more _action_ ,” Harry purrs in his ear, voice huskier than he has ever heard.

He struggles out of the hold to see that Harry’s pupils are dilated. They’re watching his every move hungrily. Cisco licks his lips and clasps Harry’s shoulders. Warmth floods him as Harry moves even closer, eliminating any personal space. He doesn’t mind in the least.

“Sign me _up_.”

Cisco is, between fervent kisses, informed that mistletoe on Earth-2 has a ridiculously high success rate of getting couples together. He thinks they should learn the difference between correlation and causation, but it still seems highly suspect.

Harry figures it simply opens their eyes to the potential. He briefly considers mentioning the mistletoe being his idea, and the betting was a result of Team Flash’s collective nosiness and immaturity.

As Cisco clings to his shoulders and moans beneath the press of his body, he decides there is no point. It would have happened eventually; Fortunately, Harry has the quick thinking to create his own opportunity.

 

 

 


End file.
